Dare
by SomeNerdyFLdian
Summary: No one is devoid of emotions. Some people just don't know how to express them. Craig Tucker's about to find that out the hard way.


It was a common misconception that Craig Tucker had no emotions. The average student or teacher saw him as a stoic robot incapable of human emotions. However, this common assumption was untrue. Those who were close enough to Craig knew that he had emotions, he just displayed less than the average human being. For example, any of Craig's acquaintances knew quite well that he felt annoyance. His dark eye brows would furrow, his middle finger would shoot up, and his icy cold eyes would send you a glare that told you to back the fuck off. And if you were too stupid to heed this warning, he felt anger, and he would express this by delivering you a swift punch in the gut.

He would occasionally feel content. This was an emotion only a blessed handful of individuals had seen displayed on the stoic raven. It was also only present when Craig was either: A. Watching Red Racer, or B. spending time with his guinea pig, Stripes. It was also present when Craig would sew, but no one ever saw it then because as far as they were concerned, Craig Tucker did NOT sew.

But Craig liked it best when people thought he didn't have emotions at all. As far as Craig was concerned, emotions were for the weak. He considered this to be a very logical thought; if someone was always happy and smiling then people let their guard down around that person. Likewise for if someone's always gloomy and depressed like those damn emo kids behind the school. No one was scared of some faggy emo kid. But people were scared of Craig. People were scared because they couldn't read him. He wore a permanent poker face, and it threw people off.

And Craig enjoyed that greatly.

Enjoyment wasn't something Craig got to experience often, you see. He was pessimistic and hated many things, nearly everything.

However there was something-or someone- that Craig hated with a greater magnitude than he did anything else.

That someone was Tweek Tweak.

Craig could give you tons of reasons as to why he hated the unfortunately-named boy so much; he was loud and would shout out random conspiracy theories at any given moment, the fact that he never brushed his hair, how he would drum his fingers repeatedly on his desk while Craig was trying to focus on school work, his fucked-up looking teeth, the way he couldn't sit still for one second and as such was always fidgeting around in his chair, how he could never button his shirt up right (why did he even wear shirts with buttons if it was too much of a challenge for him?), his fingernails-on-a-chalkboard-esque voice, his extremely unhealthy obsession with coffee…

But all of these things just boiled down to just one reason: Craig hated Tweek because he made him feel the most vulnerable. All of the things about Tweek that he loathed made him annoyed and that was an emotion. An emotion that lead to anger, an emotion that made him feel like even more of a person and even less strong.

And who had the teacher decided to pair Craig up with for their history project?

You guessed it.

So here Tweek was; a twitchy, sniveling, pathetic little thing not three feet across from Craig. He sat wringing his boney hands and making small whimpering noises. His coffee and cream colored eyes shifted nervously around the student-filled classroom, his blond head no doubt swimming with paranoid thoughts.

It was all too obvious that Tweek was trying extremely hard to keep his gaze off the raven-haired teen in front of him. The kid was a freak, but he wasn't stupid. He could take a hint, and he knew very well that Craig wasn't too fond of him, despite Craig's attempts at suppressing his distain.

After five minutes of silence between the two -sans Tweek's frantic little noises- Craig decided he'd have to talk to the spaz sooner or later, there was no sense in dragging this out.

"We gonna do this or what?" He kept his nasal voice apathetic.

"Nngh… I- um, what're we supposed to be doing exactly…?" The coffee-addicted teen spoke from behind the hand of which he was chewing at the fingernails of.

Craig raised an eyebrow slightly, "You weren't listening?"

Tweek jumped, as if Craig was going to punish him if he hadn't been listening, "Oh god man I'm so sorry, I tried to! I really did b-but, the new medicine my therapist -ack!- put me on doesn't sss-seem to be working at all and she's moving to Denver so now I have to find a NEW therapist and they have to determine what they th-think is wrong with me and then they have to suggest me a NEW medication and then I have to go to my- gah!- d-doctor and have him prescribe it for me and then I have to drop it off at the pharmacy and WAIT. Oh sweet Jesus, what if it takes too long? What if it takes so long that I can't focus in class and I bomb a bunch of tests and then I- ack!- I FAIL and my parents sell me to slavery because I FAILED!" He finished his tangent with a long, shaky breath and waited for a response from Craig.

"Not my problem." The noirette deadpanned, "Here, we're supposed to pick a topic from this list. Just pick one." He pushed his over to towards the shaking blond, since he apparently hadn't gotten one at the beginning of class. That sort of thing happened quite often with Tweek, people forgot about him a lot when he didn't want them to and directed their attention towards him when he didn't.

"Ack… oh, god… you want ME to pick?" Tweek asked, looking at the paper like it could spontaneously combust at any given moment.

"Yeah, just pick whatever you want. I seriously do not care."

"Christ man, that is way too much pressure! Why can't you just pick? I can't decide! What if I pick a boring topic?" The paranoid teen's abused and band-aid clad hands shot up into his mane of unkempt golden hair.

Craig rolled his eyes quickly, "They're all boring. Just do Eeny, meeny, miney, moe."

Tweek made a small whimper of protest but began the process of Eeny, meeny, miney, moe all the same. Craig could hear him mumbling the words to himself, and noticed that Tweek had-much to his annoyance- prolonged the process by adding the extra line of "my mother told me to pick the very best one and you are it."

"It" turned out to be the Cold War.

"Okay, great," Craig said unsurprisingly unenthusiastic, "Now we just need," He paused to scan the paper for the next instruction, "A topic sentence." He directed his gaze back to Tweek expectedly.

The twitchy blonde probably would have told Craig that this was- once again- "too much pressure," luckily however he was saved by the bell.

The raven-haired teen immediately stood up and bolted out of the classroom, fully set on avoiding Tweek for the rest of the day.

* * *

><p>Craig had succeeded in his plans to avoid his paranoid peer for the day. He had spotted his wild blond hair in the sea of students that filled the halls between periods, but he wasn't forced to talk to him like he had been in History, so Craig was satisfied.<p>

It was now after school on a Friday and the stoic teen was driving over to his friend Token's house for a "social gathering," or at least that's what Token had told his parents. In reality about thirty kids planned on showing up so it technically qualified as a party, but Token's house was so big Craig doubted that his parents would even notice.

Craig wasn't a people person by any means, but Token was his best friend. He knew Craig better than anybody. And that's why he always supplied plenty of alcohol, because if you wanted Craig Tucker at your party, all you needed was to give him free booze. Besides, a party just wasn't a party if Jack and Morgan didn't show up.

The drive to Token's took only about ten minutes despite the fact that his house (or rather mansion) was located on the outskirts of town. Craig drove through the black iron gate and up Tokens extensive driveway before parked his blue hand-me-down pickup outside his best friends house and making his way towards the front door. The noirette took note that there were already a good amount of cars parked outside. He was always "fashionably late" as his friend Clyde liked to put it.

Craig didn't bother knocking, it was Token's place. He never knocked at Token's house, it seemed so foreign to him. "Super Bass" emitted from the top-of-the-line speakers in the living room. Token always played a mix CD of crappy pop songs, though Craig didn't mind Nikki Minaj so much. He could only hope he'd be absolutely hammered drunk by the time Ke$ha or Bruno Mars started playing. Craig strolled through the group of partying seniors and made a bee-line for the kitchen for a drink.

For the first half of the evening Craig spent his time drinking on one of the sofas in the living room and chatting with Clyde, Token, Thomas or Kenny. He didn't really like Kenny though. He just always ending up talking to him.

All and all, Craig was enjoying himself. It wasn't a mind-blowing experience. It was boring. Nice and boring, just the way Craig liked it.

If only it had stayed that way.

* * *

><p><strong>OH LOOK... a party at Token's place. I bet you've never seen THAT in a Creek fic. I'm totally original.<strong>

**It's necessary I swear! D8  
><strong>

**Haha yes so that's it for chapter one e_e**

**Is it too short? I didn't really feel like getting into a major plot device until I knew if anyone actually liked it. Was it shitty? It felt shitty. But please review anyway, I'd like to know if you liked it or how you think I can improve. Or both. I don't usually write and this is my first fanfic but I want to try and improve my writing skills. I think I just get kind of hasty when I write... Anyway I don't think this is going to be a very happy story if I do decide to continue it. So I'll probably change it to Romance/angst if I continue... That's it I guess. R&R please.  
><strong>


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